


secrets shared along the shoreline

by inkwelled



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beach House, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Light Angst, Light Sexual Content, Mild Language, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s), Pop Culture, Small Town Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: His back pocket pings and he bends to block the sun so he can see the screen.Unknown NumberStop staring and come say hello, weirdo. I can see you from here.His head whips up so fast he swears he hears it crack and from the beach, water dripping off her shoulder, the woman winks before walking towards the only other two people on the beach, a woman with fiery red hair and a man with dirty blonde hair.He knows that this time, the heat under his skin definitely isn’t sunburn.Reply to Unknown NumberIf you noticed me staring that means you were looking right back.





	secrets shared along the shoreline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesopen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesopen/gifts).



> i started this five days ago, with no outline, just a general idea. which is probably obvious but this is a good lesson on planning out every detail of your idea before writing it, guys. 
> 
> p.s - once again, for the amazing emily and her series that inspired me to step outside my comfort zone and write these two
> 
> p.p.s - title from [sparks](https://genius.com/Fleurie-sparks-lyrics) by fluerie

The light bounces off the water, reflecting in his eyes, and the sun beats down on his neck as he bends. The rope is rough against his fingers but he disregards the feeling, helping to pull the small fishing boat into the dock. 

From inside the cabin, Sam yells his thanks and sun is unrelenting. He climbs the ramp Sam kicks down and helps his friend carry down the crab traps and fishing nets, glistening, bursting with bounty. 

He sets down the final bag and James appears in the doorway of the shed at the dock. His best friend steps out into the sun, brown hair swept up in what he likes to think is a woman-catching manbun, and shades his eyes. “Someone’s had a good day,” he observes, and Sam smiles as he sets down his crate. 

“Hopefully the market will make it better,” he laughs, white smile a glint against his dark skin from years of living in this small coastal town, and Steve smiles back as he turns back around and walks to the edge of the dock. 

His hair, slightly shaggy from months without a cut and enough to make James tease him, sits against his neck, damp with sweat. Wiping at his brow, he removes his hat and bends to dunk it in the clear blue water despite knowing it’ll turn his hair crusty with salt. 

He’s just standing back up, a moment to rest and he shades his eyes against the harsh light when he sees _her._ She’s lounging on the white sand, leaning back on her elbows and watching as a blonde girl laughs in the waves, splashing about. 

The woman has dark hair escaping from her floppy sunhat, olive skin that almost _glows_ in the light, and where her white dress falls over her shoulder, he sees the strap of a dark green swimsuit.  The world narrows as he watches her yell something he can’t hear and laughs at whatever the younger girl yells back. 

Unable to tear his eyes away, he watches her stand and discard her dress on top of the towel, leave her hat and sunglasses, and make a beeline for the ocean. 

Her swimsuit is dark against her skin and it’s shaped almost normally until she turns and he sees the mesh of the front, dipping dangerously low.  The blonde girl shrieks when she splashes in next to her, an all-out water beginning and he’s helpless to watch, laughing at the antics of the two - sisters? - as they play. 

Suddenly, he regrets coming in today, on his day off, simply because he hadn’t wanted to bump into his neighbor and feel guilty all over again for turning her down. 

“She’s pretty,” someone beside him says and he yelps, turning as James laughs, a sound rolling like waves in the humid air. “Sorry to disturb you, peeping tom,” his best friend winks before walking off and despite how hot his skin already feels, it suddenly feels hotter. 

“I wasn’t peeping!” he yells back and both Sam and James laugh, apparently not believing him as they start to sort out the fish and figure out how much they’ll sell for. After all, it is a hot day which means everyone is out and about, probably in the only main road through the town, which means market day. 

His back pocket pings and he bends to block the sun so he can see the screen. 

**_Unknown Number_ **

_Stop staring and come say hello, weirdo. I can see you from here._

His head whips up so fast he swears he hears it crack and from the beach, water dripping off her shoulder, the woman winks before walking towards the only other two people on the beach, a woman with fiery red hair and a man with dirty blonde hair. 

He knows that this time, the heat under his skin definitely isn’t sunburn. 

**_Reply to Unknown Number_ **

_If you noticed me staring that means you were looking right back._

He hits send and watches as the woman reaches for the canvas bag, shoulders shaking with mirth. In his hand, his phone pings again and he ignores the yell for help from his friends as he clicks open the message. 

**_Unknown Number._ **

_Touché._

_The name’s Katniss and I’m free for the rest of the day._

A smile spreads over his face, unknowingly, and his fingers fly across the keyboard. 

**_Reply to Unknown Number_ **

_I’m Steve. I get off at 4. I’ll be at Sae’s, if you show, it’ll be my treat._

Almost as soon as he hits send, three little dots appear from the blank circle representing her and as he waits, he goes in and changes her contact name. He hits save and goes back to his messages just as his phone pings again.

**_Katniss_ **

_It’s a date, sailor._

“Hey!” James calls from behind him and he slips his phone into his pocket as he turns. “Get over and help us, lover boy. Sooner we get these to the market the sooner you can run off with whoever you’re texting.” 

Steve laughs and the dock groans under his feet as he walks back, mock salutes. “Whatever you say, Captain.” 

On the beach, the woman watches as the blonde man with bulging arms and salt water in his hair bends, slings a fishing net full of fish over his shoulder and follows the two other men. The wind has died down enough that she turns back to the blanket and tries to stuff her hair back that’s escaped from her braid under the sunhat that isn’t doing its job. 

Over the rim of the plastic container holding his pasta salad, Clint smirks. “I’d scold you for hacking into his phone to catch him in the act but I’d be a hypocrite.” 

Natasha smiles, lowering herself on the towel and popping open her own container. “Damn both of you, I was just about to do that myself.” 

Prim’s eyes dance. “Hack his phone or flirt?” 

Over the sound of Katniss sputtering, their mother cackles. “Yes.” 

To the side, Katniss hunches her shoulders and pokes her little sister with her fork. “You’re awful.” 

“And you’re in lo-ove!” Prim sings-songs and giggles as she dodges a tomato from her older sister. In the sunlight, Primrose’s hair is spun gold, pale blue eyes glinting like jewels and her mouth is stretched wide. Katniss remembers her parents bringing home Prim when she was only seven; remembers her father holding a toddler. 

Katniss remembers looking down at the toddler, peeking over the crib, remembers the rush of affection for a sister that wasn’t biologically hers - Clint and Natasha had adopted the little girl from a small town and a mother who couldn’t provide - and vowed that she would never be unhappy again. 

Primrose doesn’t remember her biological mother, only remembers a time where she held a stuffed duck toy and giggled at something her older sister said, her mother tucking her in, her father kissing her goodbye before kindergarten. There hasn’t been a time she doesn’t remember being called little duck by Katniss, and she’s fine with that. 

After lunch, Katniss chases her back into the water and tosses her wiry frame over her shoulder, cackling over her yells for helps from their parents. There’s a glint in her older sister’s eyes and Prime barely has time to yelp before her older sister drops her into the cold water. 

The ocean water is cool against her legs and the feeling is refreshing from the time spent in the hot air. From the shore, she hears Natasha call, “What happened to thirty minutes after eating to go in the water?” and Katniss laughs. “Because you’re such a stickler for rules.” 

They settle down after that, Prim to the shoreline to look for seashells (a favorite of her mother’s) and Katniss to the sand to continue her book. Comfortably sat in the sand, their father builds a sand castle and Natasha spreads sunscreen on her arms before joining her husband. 

As they bicker mockingly about the architecture of the castle, Katniss reaches for her bag and clicks on her phone’s home screen. 

_3:56 PM_

She tosses her phone in, her book safely nestled into the canvas interior and waves to her parents as she takes off across the sand. “See you later!” she calls to Prim and her little sister makes a heart with her hands. 

Flipping her little sister off and hoping her parents don’t see it, Katniss sticks out her tongue and clambers into the small shed-like bathroom. Light filters in through windows in the corners and there’s three rows of empty stalls to choose from. Usually she would take the one in the corner, easy to blend into the shadows, but she doesn’t have time. 

Three minutes later she’s hopping out, trying to wrangle the strap of her sandal over her heel while attempting to fix her hair and she wonders why she cares so much. It’s been two years since Gale, since _that_ night, and a little part of her is scared. 

The rest of her sings as she dashes through the summer air towards Main Street. She hopes her hair doesn’t look as salt-crusted as it feels and she stops at the corner, wrangles her long hair into a braid and throws her sunhat overtop. 

Perfect. 

She turns onto Main Street and is immediately assaulted by the noises and smells of a small coastal town with one street and nothing to do on a hot day. 

There’s stands _everywhere,_ people laughing and yelling things like _cold beer, half off if you have an ID!_ and _homemade lemonade, a dollar a cup!_ and she moves as quickly as she dares. Everywhere she steps there’s a kid with a balloon, a dog on a leash, a couple sitting an outdoor table and eating ice cream, and she’s overwhelmed _._

By the time she makes it to the sidewalk outside the tiny corner diner, it’s a few minutes past four and it’s totally not because she got distracted by a face-painting booth and now has a flame on the skin between her neck and shoulder. Of course not.

When she pushes open the door to Sae’s, it’s mostly empty, the overhead fan squeaking with every turn and for a split second, she worries she’s missed him. The cracked tile floor is slightly sticky with humidity and it’s in the very corner that she spots the mystery man. 

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to run off with someone she had caught staring at her from the dock, but there’s something in her that urges her to move forward and not turn heel before he looks up. She has no choice because a second later, Steve looks up from the menu and his face splits into the most breathtaking smile she’s ever seen. 

She doesn’t even try to control her own smile, as small as it may be and she grasps the strap of her bag as she walks forward. “Hey there Brady.” 

Steve’s smile dims slightly as she slides into the booth, his eyebrows knit. “Who?” 

“Teen Beach Movie? Oh come on, that’s a staple in Disney Channel’s movies.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Never seen it.” 

Sighing in fake exasperation, she shakes her head. “Figures I agreed to go out with the one boy on the planet who has never seen the best Disney Channel movie of all time.” 

Steve’s eyes narrow at that. “Impossible. That honor goes to High School Musical.” 

She opens her mouth to rebuke but a waitress appears conveniently, nametag smudged just enough that she can’t read the name. “Hey guys, what can I get you?” 

Katniss doesn’t open the menu or ask what they have. “Chocolate milkshake please.” 

Across from her, Steve smiles behind his menu. “Two, please. And can you add extra whipped cream to both, Larkspur? Thanks.” 

The girl disappears into the back and Katniss raises an eyebrow. “Larkspur? Small towns and their weird names.” 

Steve smirks, stacks the sugar packs. “Hypocrite.” 

Her mouth curves at that. “True. I guess I can’t make fun of Larkspur since I’m named after a tuber from a riverbed.” 

Steve laughs, quick and loud and she thinks it’s one of the best sounds she’s ever heard. “Are you serious,” he chuckles as the waitress comes back and the conversation halts as they get their milkshakes, frothy and tall, condensation rolling down the steamed glass. 

“Actually, no. My mom wanted to name me a hearty Russian name like Katya and my dad wanted Alanis, but my mother said it sounded so much like a fantasy creature that they compromised the best they could.” She catches the straw with her lips and takes her first sip. 

Smooth chocolate and cold so shocking it numbs her teeth bursts in her mouth and she almost _moans_ because it’s so rich. Steve chuckles at her, probably the surprised look on her face. “Sae makes the best milkshakes I’ve ever had.” 

For the next hour, they talk about nothing and everything. 

“So you live here year-round?” she says, sucking the last of her milkshake through the straw, mostly air, and he nods. “What can I say, I’m a sea dog at heart. What about you? I’ve never seen you around before, and if I had I would’ve remembered.” 

She blushes at that. “My parents rent a beach house every summer and to decide we blindfold whoever’s turn it was and they point at a map. It was my turn this time, and I pointed here.” 

Steve tells her about his friends and their antics during high school and she tells him about Prim and her love of strawberry ice cream. When she leaves for a minute to go to the bathroom, she returns to a styrofoam cup filled with the fruity frothy goodness. 

Katniss stares down at it and imagines the pure joy in her sister’s eyes when she tries it because if it’s anything like the chocolate milkshakes, it’ll be gone in a matter of seconds. Steve stands, suddenly bashful as if he wasn’t just telling her about how he once pantsed their health teacher because Bucky dared him to, and stutters. “I-I just thought Prim might like it, I’ll take it back if you don’t want it - “ 

She smiles, bites her lip, and stands up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He tastes like salt and chocolate milkshakes and when she swipes her tongue over his lips, she thinks in the back of her mind that she can faintly taste cinnamon gum. 

The kiss is slow and soft, hazy and languid like the weather is under their skin and she feels drunk when she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing closer. Steve responds slowly, probably out of shock but doesn’t pull away, hands settling cautiously on her back. 

Through her thin sundress she can feel the roughness of his hands, probably from tying and untying knots on the dock, but they trace her back in circles so soft she melts into him. This is what kissing is supposed to be, she thinks, not angry and yelling and against walls between curse words and she breaks the kiss, Gale’s face flashing in front of her eyelids. 

Steve flounders for a moment, concerned. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable - “ 

She presses a kiss to his lips, soft and quick and laughs quietly when he chases them. Her finger finds his lips and claims his attention. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. Quite the opposite actually, or I wouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t go around kissing complete strangers every day, you know.” 

He laughs, lays down a ten as a tip and opens the door for her, bell overhead jingling pleasantly. “I wouldn’t call us complete strangers; we just spent an hour and a half talking. At least bump me up to acquaintances.” 

The sun is starting to set and if she thought the market slash block party was loud in the afternoon, as it approaches night the wild ones come out to play. All over, parents are walking off with their children in their arms, their eyes drooping and the calls of _cold beer!_ and _long island iced teas, half price!_ grow bolder. 

Something brushes at her pinkie and she looks down, expecting a tired toddler but instead it’s Steve’s pinkie, testing the waters. Right now, it’s the barest hint of contact, giving her the reigns to pull away but she doesn’t, just smiles up at him and intertwines her fingers. 

In her bag, her phone buzzes and with the hand not in his, she reaches in and turns on the screen. 

**_Little Duck_ **

_Mom and dad want to know if they should meet you on Main in twenty. I might go back to the house because I’m sunburnt but they want you to know they don’t mind if you stay out._

Steve and her walk aimlessly, listening to the cries of the stands as the sun begins to dup behind the town hall at the end of the street. Katniss smiles down at her phone, types with one hand. 

**_Reply to Little Duck_ **

_I don’t mind if mom and dad come out; tell dad they’re got cold beers everywhere and I think they’re selling vodka. And I told you to wear sunscreen!_

**_Little Duck_ **

_When do I ever listen. Also mom has informed me they’ll be asap._

**_Reply to Little Duck_ **

_True. You should come with mom and dad only because we got something for you._

**_Little Duck_ **

_“We”?_

_;)_

**_Reply to Little Duck_ **

_Strike one. Three and I throw it out_

**_Little Duck_ **

_Okay okay! Omw_

Katniss chuckles and when Steve leans over to see, she doesn’t get a stab of irritation like she used to when Gale would do the same. The sudden memory makes her heart ache and she feels guilty. Why do the same things Gale did that sent her over the edge don’t bother her when Steve does them? 

“I like your dad’s taste in alcohol. Honorable.” 

She pockets the phone instead of putting it back in her bag and bends to pet a dog at a bench along the street. The dog has dark fur, dark eyes and floppy ears with curly fur. The collar around her neck reads _Rue_ and her little tails wags excitedly at Katniss crouches to say hello. 

“I prefer red wine but if you like actual shit in a bottle I guess it is,” she hums and Steve laughs loud, throwing his head back in the evening air and she feels the first wall around her heart crack. 

He’s dangerous, Steve, but she’s always loved the risk. 

She stands back up and Rue whines but she quickly turns her attention to the next admirer. They stop at a stand outside the bar and sample different alcohols after she proves to them that, yes, she is over 21. A week over 21, actually, and when she kisses Steve on the sidewalk later, under the sunset, he tastes like warm rum and sunshine and everything right in the world. 

His arms are strong around her and she finds she doesn’t mind the slight cramping in her calves from being on her tiptoes so long. When they break for air, she leans her forehead against his and their shared air is salty like the sea and warm like love. 

“Hey, lovebirds, stop sucking face and come do shots with us.” 

Katniss huffs a laugh into Steve’s lips and he chuckles back as they lean back and she catches her mother’s wink before she tips back a vodka shot. The sunlight is dying and all around them, lampposts are starting to come alive and somewhere down the street, someone’s playing music with the bass boosted. 

After her third shot and fingertips buzzing pleasantly, she watches fireflies meander above the party the street has become, house lights dark but street lit by lamps and a bonfire on the beach a few thousand feet from them. 

That’s where she ends up, sitting in the sand, stargazing in the clean air of the small town and Steve traces her fingers. His aren’t the only one calloused, hers from archery training and weightlifting, but unlike his, hers aren’t soft. Her nail beds are small, nails cut short as not to damage her bow but Steve doesn’t seem to mind as he presses a kiss to each one. 

She leans in and his lips are the sea, the shitty beer Clint challenged him to a drinking contest with and he eagerly follows her lead. The bonfire rages on behind them, people still drinking until her hand creeps down the neck of his blue t-shirt and his own hand, warm against her flushes skin, sits at her bare hip. 

“ _Katniss_ ,” Steve whispers into her lips and she searches his eyes, a wordless answer.

 

 

 

  

She wakes to her phone buzzing somewhere near her. 

She pawns for it, the sunlight is harsh against her eyes when she tries to open them and she groans, burrowing back into the sheets and - someone’s arms? Her brain freezes and she thinks back to the night before, which comes back in pieces. 

Plastic cups sloshing with beer, Steve’s smile, the bonfire, his hand on her hip, his shirt on the floor, a warm mouth against her neck - 

\- Behind her, Steve mumbles in his sleep and turns over, his forearm draped over her waist and fingertips brushing the hem of her underwear. Her body tenses when she realizes she’s in a baby blue t-shirt that seems familiar and her underwear, her bare legs tangled with Steve’s. 

A headache pulses at her temples and she carefully extracts herself from Steve’s arms, sitting on the side of the bed for a moment to massage her head. There’s a mirror leaning against the wall and when she runs her fingers in a vain attempt to untangle the mess, she remembers Steve doing the same. 

She remembers his breath warm against her sternum, his face when she had hooked his waist with her legs and flipped them, hovering over him and clasping his hand, leaning down to brush a kiss against his pulse. She remembers giggling when his Adam’s apple bobbed and she groans at her past self when her brain supplies her with the fact she also bit on _that._

Behind her, Steve turns over and she slips on her denim shorts, by the end of the bed and the hardwood is cold against her flushed skin. The door doesn’t creak when she slips through it but the stairs groan quietly as she descends. 

The rest of the beach house unfolds before her; the open layout that has the kitchen flowing into the living room. The kitchen is large for a beach house and she hears whistling coming from the kitchen so she follows the sound. 

There’s a man at the stove, brown hair messily pulled atop his head and he’s in low-slung pajama pants patterned with red and black stripes and a tight black shirt. The kitchen is clean and minimal, but with signs of life; this must be one of Steve’s roommates, James. He must hear her behind him because he turns, stack of pancakes in one hand and a glass bottle of maple syrup in the other. 

“Morning Sharon - “ 

They both freeze and something in her _cracks._

The man - James - is stuttering, noticing that she isn’t their neighbor and is currently shell-shocked. He winces at the betrayed look in her eyes and sets down the plate, trying not to wince himself as she flinches at the sound. 

Oh, he’s really done it now. 

“You’re uhhhh….not Sharon.” 

The same thing that cracks inside her solidifies, cold metal and indifference. “No,” she spits, venom so potent in her voice she almost flinches, “I’m not.” 

“Wait - “ 

In that moment, she’s glad she had grabbed her shirt, and her bag and shoes are by the entrance.

The door bangs closed behind her and for a split second, she leans against the door. Now is not the time for tears, she thinks, swiping at her eyes, and taking off. 

Her car is still at the shop so she walks until she recognizes her surroundings and she’s just hit Main Street when the town starts to wake, coming alive. Storefronts unlock their doors as people throw their windows open to air out their hangovers from the night before and she walks quickly, trying to get back to the hotel before she’s recognized - 

“Hey, Katniss!” 

She winces from the loud noise, headache already being assaulted by the rising sun and the smile she forces onto her face as she turns hurts her temples even more. “Hi Madge.” 

The mayor’s daughter smiles widely, linking arms with her and continuing to walk. “I’m guessing you had fun last night.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“There’s Gucci-style bags under your eyes and your hair looks like a pie crust that was left in the oven too long.” 

“How…specific.” 

Madge giggles. “Anyway, I was just on my way to get some coffee, want to come along? My treat.” 

She remembers Steve’s text yesterday afternoon, _my treat,_ and the genuine smile that had come with the presence of what she considered to be her best friend fades slightly. “Oh, sure.” 

Before she even finishes, Madeline is dragging her along towards the only coffee shop in town which is already full of people. The door is propped open, letting the salty, cool wind of the early morning waft through and entice people with the smell of grinding coffee beans and freshly-baked and iced pastries. 

Her mouth begins to water and when they reach the counter, Madge orders a latte with almond milk for herself before an iced mocha, Katniss’ favorite. The entire time, she stares at the blueberry muffin in the glass case and her face falls when it’s taken. 

Not a second later it’s being pushed into her hand and she looks up, surprised, to see the corners of Madeline’s eyes crinkle. “You were eying it and I thought you might need some fuel.” 

She hates how emotional she gets when people buy her simple things like a strawberry milkshake or a blueberry muffin so she swallows down the lump, nods, and follows Madge to a corner table. It’s their favorite, tucked into the very corner so they can see everyone but it’s hard to see them through the large, leafy plant. 

As she sips the coffee, savoring the caffeine as it jolts her mind awake, she observes the small coffee shop. It’s obviously trying to mimic the feel of big-town cafes tucked into corners and alleyways; exposed brick and fairy lights combined with warm-toned floors and black metal tables and high chairs, each one with a different plant. While it’s obvious, the feel of the shop is cozy and should feel out of place among the seaside shops but surprisingly doesn’t. 

“So, who is he?” 

Katniss jolts out of her reverie, bewildered and almost spits out her coffee in her haste to answer. “What?” 

Madge’s laugh is almost melodic. “The boy you’re moping over. Who is he?” 

She swirls her cup, looks anywhere but her friend’s eye. “What if it’s not a boy.” 

“I know for a matter of fact it is because Sae served you and mystery boy her famous milkshakes yesterday and she can’t seem to keep her mouth shut. But it’s a small town,” she shrugs, taking a sip of her latte, “so news travels fast.” 

Groaning, Katniss drops her head into her arms and Madge chuckles, patting her head. Voice muffled by her arms, she grouses. “Why’d you ask if you knew who it was.” 

“Because I was hoping you’d come clean with your bestest friend in the entire world before I told you I knew you went on a date with Steven Rogers and went home with him last night.” 

“First of all,” Katniss says, lifting her head and looking Madge straight in the eye, “ _bestest_ is not a word and second, I hate you.” 

Her forehead finds her forearms again and Madge can’t seem to stop giggling. “No you don’t.” 

“Yes I do.” 

“No you don’t, liar.” 

“Shut up and give me Tylenol.” 

“Only if you admit I’m right and tell me how he was in bed.” 

She looks up at that. “Madge!” she gasps, shocked at her friend’s words but the mayor’s daughter doesn’t look even the slightest bit guilty. “Have some shame!” 

“I will not,” she smirks. 

“You’re awful.” 

“And you’re stubborn. I want all the details.” 

Katniss groans again. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you shut up for two seconds and give me Tylenol that I know is in your purse.” 

A while bottle appears in her vision and she nods, sitting up. She untwists the cap, pours two out, swallows them dry. “Nice doing business with you.” 

“Now spill.” 

She closes her eyes, takes a sip, and the heartbeat in her temples starts to fade. “So I was at the beach yesterday and I caught this guy staring at me from the dock - “ 

“Steven.” 

“ - and so I hacked his phone and told him that that I saw him. I thought I told you to shut up.” 

“Sorry.” 

“So he tells me that he gets off at four and to meet him at Sae’s if I want to, he’ll buy.” 

“Quick question.” 

“What,” she grinds out, exasperated. 

“What bathing suit were you wearing? Was it the slutty one?” 

Katniss massages her head, the headache threatening to return. “I don’t know, it was the dark green monokini.” 

“ _That’s_ why he was staring. It _was_ the slutty one. I was right,” her best friend smiles triumphantly and Katniss’ eyebrows furrow as she opens her eyes. 

“Didn’t you buy that one for me?” 

“And look where it got you.” 

“Are you going to let me finish my story?” 

Madeline crosses her arms and sits back. “I don’t know, are you going to get to the juicy part?” 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

“ _Anyways,_ as I was saying, I met him at Sae’s and he bought us chocolate milkshakes and when I mentioned Prim’s love for strawberries he bought one for her too.” 

Her best friend leans forward. “And?” 

Katniss fiddles with the sugar packets, stacking them, abruptly stopping when she remembers Steve doing the same thing in the diner last night. “And I may have kissed him.” 

Madge gasps and leans forward, eyes dancing with excitement. “Are you serious!” she squeals, and Katniss can’t help but smile because Madge’s enthusiasm and her entire being is infectious. 

“I said I _may have_ kissed him.” 

“You’re an awful liar,” the mayor’s daughter points out, straw pointing towards her and Madge licks a drop of almond milk off before it can drop to the table. She sets it down though, leans forward onto her forearms. “Then what.” 

She wants to groan again, drop her head back onto her arms and disappear behind this huge leafy plant, never to return to existence. “Then I went home with him.” 

Madeline inches her stool closer. “And?” 

“Nothing happened,” she steels out, remembering the surprise in his roommate’s voice when he turned around, expecting _Sharon_ and instead getting a different girl, a nameless girl who probably wasn’t as pretty or talented as _Sharon._

“Well something must have happened because you were doing the walk of shame when I found you.” 

Katniss sputters, leaning forward to clamp her palm over Madge’s lips. “Shut up!” she hisses, looking around frantically, trying to see if anyone heard, but no one is looking her way and the coffee shop is almost empty, rush hour over. 

A sudden wetness on her palm and she squeals in disgust, bringing her hand away from her friend’s mouth only to wipe her spit on Madeline’s blouse. “Ew! You licked me?” 

Madeline grimaces. “It wasn’t pleasant for either of us, believe me. Take a shower when you get home, will you? You taste like sunscreen and salt.” 

Unimpressed, Katniss raises an eyebrow and Madge sighs, sitting forward. “Listen,” she says, suddenly serious, “I’m sorry about what happened. That sucks, honestly, and if you need a ride home or someone to beat up James I’m a multitasker.” 

When she sighs heavily, her shoulders seem to cave into her chest. “That’d be nice,” she whispers, voice small, and Madge strokes a thumb over her friend’s hand on the table. 

“Is that yes to a ride or yes to beating up James?” 

“Yes,” Katniss says and just like that, the subject is dropped. Madge laughs and Katniss laughs with her, a warmth feeling her chest. _Boys are stupid,_ Madge had told her over the phone once, after her breakup with Gale, and she uses that phrase to rebuild the wall in her chest. 

_Boys are stupid._

“You know what,” she says, chest growing stronger with each syllable, “after I shower we should get out, go somewhere. You free today?” 

Madge slings her bag over her shoulder, mischief dancing wild in her eyes and the curve of her mouth. “Absolutely,” she says, throwing her cup away, and the smile on Katniss’ face couldn’t be any wider. 

In her bag, her phone buzzes once, twice, three times. 

She ignores it and pushes open the door to walk into the salty morning air. 

 

 

 

 

The bathroom mirror is fogged when she steps out of the shower back at the beach house. Underneath her bare feet, the microfiber cloth is soft and forgivingly cold. Despite how humid it is outside, she’d used hot water and now the air is thick with moisture. 

Beads of condensation roll down the reflective surface and she wipes it away with her hand, needing to wash the salt from her cheeks. 

Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. 

Her skin is flaming red from the temperature of water she’d sat and let herself cry under. Looking at it now, she sighs because it means she’ll have to put on not only aloe, but lotion otherwise her skin will dry out and crack. But now the red around her eyes will be explained and standing in her room for a few minutes, air conditioner on high, the skin around her eyes will calm down. 

She wraps herself in the white towel from the closet and braids her hair in sharp, half-hearted movements. The wood in the hallway is cold underneath the balls of her feet and she hurries into her room, closes the door. She’s avoided Prim and her parents since she got home, claiming a headache and telling them she crashed at Madge’s place. 

Her mother had watched her go up the stairs, a knowing look on her face behind the sports section of the newspaper while her father poured another cup of coffee. He’d called up after her that Prim was out with friends at the mall outside the coastal town and she wishes for the thousandth time her little sister had taken her too. 

On her bed, her phone buzzes again and she wants to check it despite the fact that she knows it’s Steve because if it was Madeline, _Walking On Sunshine_ would play. He’s been calling and texting her nonstop since this morning, since she slammed the door to his house and her heart. 

She should block his number, knows how easy it would be, but every time she picks up her phone, the screen lights up with a new message from _Ocean Man_ and she finds she can’t do it. Breathing in, she ignores the buzzing and dresses in the most comforting thing she can find in her drawers; dark wash jean shorts, black short sleeve, green checkered plaid shirt tied around her waist.  

Today is about forgetting, about Madeline and her, and so maybe she splurges slightly and puts in a pair of dangling earrings and a little eyeshadow. Maybe. Her heart rebuilds itself, piece by piece, and today her armor will be winged eyeliner to cover the fact that she’s so torn up about a stupid guy she just met. 

_I used to think maybe you loved me now baby I'm sure..._

Katniss snatches up the phone before it can get any farther in the song and wonders if she should change the song; at least the first verse is eerily familiar. “Be right out,” she says and outside she hears Madge honk the horn in response. 

She flies down the stairs, grabs her sandals and purse, yells goodbye.

 “Call if you’re going to be out until after dinner!” Natasha calls from the front yard, bent over the flower garden and she yells back she will before clambering into Madeline’s tiny beetle. Her best friend is still in the floral jumper with heeled boots but now sprouts a sunhat and large sunglasses that dwarf her face. 

Madge waves hello to her mother, who probably doesn’t see it from the sun in her face, before peeling away from the curb and then they’re off, leaving the small town behind. Katniss rolls down the window, relishes in the wind beating against her face and the pounding of the pop music on the radio, and almost feels normal again. 

She realizes half an hour in that she doesn’t know where Madge is taking her, has no clue where they’re going because she doesn’t recognize the strip of highway they’re on - as if the highway is unique and all parts don’t look identical. Reaching for the knob to the radio, Katniss pushes her sunglasses up on her head. 

“Where are we going?” she half-yells over the still-pounding radio and Madge shrugs, sending her a dazzling smile. 

“I thought we’d just drive and wherever we end up we’ll hang until you’re either ready to talk or go home. Don’t worry though, I’m tracking our route so we can find our way back home so we don’t get lost.” 

The wind whips through her golden hair, darker than Prim’s but escaping from an expertly-done high braided bun, and Katniss thinks she’s never loved Madge as much as she does in that moment. Instead of saying anything, courtesy to the lump in the back of her throat, she leans to turn the radio back up and lets Taylor Swift’s latest song wash over her. 

 _Now there,_ she thinks, watching the same landscape loop over and over outside the car, _is someone who knows exactly what they’re talking about._

 

 

Steve paces around the living room, aggravated and James sits on the couch looking properly chastised when Sam walks into the kitchen. He doesn’t even notice them at first, too preoccupied with pouring a fresh cup of coffee and he’s just turning to take the first sip when he sees them. 

“Whatever it is, it was Bucky.” 

The aforementioned person sputters indignantly but Steve just laughs bitterly, massages his temples. “You’re not wrong.” 

Sam leans back against the counter, sending his roommate in trouble a raised eyebrow. “What’d he do this time?” 

“Do you remember Katniss?” Steve says, arms crossed and staring resolutely at the carpet and Sam hums. It’s about the mystery beach girl. 

“Yeah about yea high,” gestures to his shoulder, “dark hair, the only thing you could talk about the entire shift yesterday? I think I remember her, faintly.” 

“Please shut up, this is serious.” 

Sam glares at James. “What did you do.” 

The man on the couch opens his mouth once, twice but nothing comes out so he turns to Steve, who sighs so heavily his shoulders sag. “She woke before me,” ignores Sam’s eyebrow wiggle and sends him _The Look,_ “and when she wandered downstairs Bucky turns and goes, “oh, good morning Sharon!”. She won’t answer my texts and - ” 

Steve frowns, takes the phone from his ear and forcefully jams a finger against his screen. “ - now she won’t pick up.” 

There’s a moment of silence as Sam observes the two in the living room and wonders why he didn’t just tough it out renting his own house and not roommating with two _probably_ gay guys who didn’t turn out gay. 

He can hear his sister laughing from a thousand miles away. 

“So,” he’s now massaging his own temples, _thanks Steve,_ “let me get this straight. A girl you didn’t tell us would be coming home with you was presumed to be a girl who we all knew had a crush on you? God, Steve, ever think you might be overreacting?” 

Steve opens his mouth but there’s something bubbling in his stomach. “It was an _honest mistake_ Steven. Bucky didn’t mean to chase off the girl you just met last night because you were lonely because it was the _anniversary of your ex-girlfriend’s death!”_

The minute the words slip out, his filter lubricated with anger, he wants to take them back. He wants to pluck them out of the air and shove them back down his throat so the wounded look on Steve’s face that quickly morphs into quiet anger would go away. The room drops into stony silence and Sam watches Steve’s spine straighten until it’s so straight that his shoulders slope like pieces of steel. 

He strides out of the room without another word, the front door slamming behind him and Sam and Bucky are left alone. Slowly, the world comes back; the honking of cars outside, the crashing of the ocean waves and Sam walks out the back door. 

On the couch, Bucky sighs and slumps into the cushions. He grinds the heel of his palms over his eyes, seeing stars and groans. “Goddamn girls,” he grouses before sitting up and reaching for his phone, knowing exactly where Steve is right now. 

His best friend picks up on the fourth ring. “What,” he grinds into the phone and Bucky rests his elbow on his knee. “Check the phonebook for local rental agencies and ask about the Romanoff-Bartons.” 

A beat of silence. “What?” 

He stands, wanders into the kitchen and pours a new cup of coffee after wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “Listen, Sam shouldn’t have said that but I hope getting schooled doesn’t mean you can’t hear right. I’m not gonna repeat myself, punk.” 

“Jerk.” 

“Yeah, yeah go find your girl. I’ll talk to Sam.” 

“Thanks Buck,” his friend sighs and he just nods as the phone clicks. 

“I thought stirring up drama was my thing,” he grouses to the empty room, draining the last of the coffee and placing the mug in the sink before heading off to find his other roommate.

 

 

 

 

An hour later, they pull off the highway and after driving for a little longer, end up at strip mall bursting with people in the hot summer air. Katniss pulls herself from the beetle, sunglasses atop her head and surveys the large building. The windows glint against the sun and potted plants by the entrance stretch towards the light. 

Madge climbs out of the driver’s seat, stretching her legs before shading her eyes - despite the fact they’re still hidden behind her too-big sunglasses - and turns to her best friend. “You bought cash, right?” 

She smirks back, waving her wallet. “You bet your ass I did, city girl.” 

Inside the mall is cold, air conditioning on at full blast and goosebumps raise when the doors slide open and a gust hits her. As they move towards the large map in the middle of the walkway, Katniss surveys the mall. 

From her spot here, she can only see three floors but blissfully, she’s surrounded by complete strangers and that’s exactly what she needs right now. She grabs Madge’s arm and drags her off. 

“What about the map!” her best friend yelps and Katniss smiles. 

“Where’s your sense of adventure,” she teases and Madge pins her with a blank look. “In the car I drove us here in. You forget, young Padawan, that I was the one who proposed we drive with no destination in the first place.” 

Katniss laughs, loud and free, not caring when she draws glances. She intertwines her fingers with Madge’s. “I know, and thank you again. This is exactly what I needed.” 

Her best friend smirks, pretends to flip her hair even though it’s pulled back. “I know.” 

“Now come on! Stop yapping and start walking; we have a lot of ground to cover.” 

For a few minutes, they meander, flitting around the kiosks and storefronts until Madge comes to a half in front of a neon-lit sign and Katniss sighs. 

“No.” 

“Oh, come on!” Madge protests, turning, “you don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“I know you _plus_ you’re kinda standing in front of a nail salon,” she points out, crossing her arms and Madge laughs. 

“Chicken.” 

“I am not.” 

“Bwak bwak bwak.” 

Sighing exasperatedly, she throws her hands up. “Fine! I’ll get my nails done but it’s only going to be done in black, no French tips or diamonds, you hear?” 

Madeline just giggles, pulls her through the glass doors and the air smells of nail polish. It’s cold. abrasively so, goosebumps raise as she’s dragged to the front counter. 

The man behind the desk is tall, dark skin in contrast to the gold piercings in his ears, eyebrows and single ring in his lip and he smiles wide when they approach. 

“Hello ladies, welcome to Beauty Base Zero! My name is Cinna,” he taps his nametag, also gold against the plain black of his collared shirt, “and it’s my job to make sure you have everything you might need. What are you thinking?” 

While Madge launches into the exact designs she wants, Katniss lets her eyes wander. The walls are white and the large chairs that a few people sit in are lined with gold and every surface is marble. Just standing in the middle of the salon, she feels dirty because there’s not a spot of dirt  _anywhere._

“So just nails then?” 

Madeline turns to Katniss, and in a split second she makes up her mind. “Do you do trims and color?” 

Cinna smiles. “As a matter of fact, I do. What were you thinking of?”

 

 

 

 

An hour later, Katniss and Madge leave, carrying frosted glass bags. As they walk, Katniss admires the feel of her split ends gone and the fresh blonde highlights - a special kind Cinna had called strobing and Madge is still raving about them. 

Black-painted fingertips skim the zipper of her purse, almost unconsciously and realizing what she’s doing, jerks her hand back as if she’s been burnt. Madge has moved onto the girl that had painted her nails, someone called Effie - _what a weird name,_ she thinks - and in the sunlight, her best friend’s nail almost look white because it’s such a pale pink. 

Her own are plain black except for the small design Madge had wrangled her into; two small upside-down v’s on both ring fingers and they’re a soft gray. The mayor’s daughter had refused to leave before she chose something and while Katniss had refused fake nails, she had given in. 

Cinna had been the one to paint her nails and put the highlights in her hair and he’d talked very minimally, not pressuring her into a conversation and she had relaxed. The few times she had to get her ends snipped, the person cutting her hair had always jabbered on, expecting her to respond and she’d spent the whole time staring at the mirror and regretting everything. 

Clint laughed afterwards, slinging an arm around his wife’s waist and declaring she got that from her mother, who had scowled. Prim had giggled, skipping ahead, and declared she was more like her dad because she was pretty and Katniss was sure she had seen Clint tear up slightly. 

“There’s something in my eye,” he’d shot back when she pointed it out and from the smirks on his daughter and wife’s face, he’d known they didn’t believe a word he’d said. 

The rest of the way home he’d pouted, Natasha laughing at his scowl as he looked out the window but still begrudgingly taking her hand when she laid it in the middle console. 

The man had been so quiet that after she relaxed, she found herself opening up to him, laughing lightly at his jokes and telling him stories of her little sister and her hometown. In response, Cinna had opened up as well, regaling her with the tale of meeting his husband for the first time and their daughter. 

“ - and that’s when I stabbed him right through the chest.” 

Katniss whips her head around and Madge laughs at her friend’s face, looping her arm through the other’s. “I _knew_ you weren’t listening.” 

She shrugs, smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, lost in thought I guess.” 

The blonde waves it off. “Don’t worry about it, you just missed my story is all.” 

Giggling in response, Katniss tugs childishly at her arm, laughter bubbling in her throat. “Madge!” she whines, “tell me! I’ll listen this time, I promise!” 

“Are you sure? You looked pretty concentrated on your thoughts there and for a moment I’d thought I’d lost you to Gatlin.” 

At the mention of the short story that had given her nightmares for a week after she’d had to read it for a class, Katniss playfully shoves Madeline away, wraps her arms around herself and pouts. “I thought we agreed _not_ to talking about that.” 

“I made no promises.” 

“Wha - I guess pinky promises are bullshit now. Congratulations, Madeline Grace Undersee, you just officially ruined pinky promises and I can no longer trust you with anything and everything.” 

Off to the side, her friend is doubled over in laughter, ignoring the confused looks from the other shoppers. 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“They crucified them! They sacrificed themselves to corn! How is that dramatic?!” 

In-between deep breaths, Madge laughs airily and Katniss finds herself chuckling too. Despite her past self’s terrified state after finishing the famous novella, she now finds it cheesy and can spare a joke aimed at her. 

“Just for that I get to pick the next store.”

“Be my guest, Vicky.” 

“Oh my _god_ you’re awful and I hate you.” 

 

 

 

 

The sun is dipping behind the horizon when they finally walk through the glass doors into the parking lot and the air, cooling with the dusk, creeps up her spine. Katniss breathes in deeply as they distribute their bags in the backseat and when she climbs in, she lowers the window. 

The smell here is much different than the coastal town quickly becoming her home, more cut grass than salty ocean water, and there’s no screeching gulls, only sounds of a busy street. It unsettles her, the sounds, and the radio is cranked up. 

Light from light poles on the highway paint quick stripes along her face as they drive and she props her face on the ledge, closing her eyes as the sharp wind washes over her face. She knows untangling her hair in the morning will be near impossible but she doesn’t plan on getting out of bed until past noon. 

Madge taps her finger on the steering wheel, mouthing along to some song on the radio and she wonders whether she’ll finally get something done tomorrow off her list; if she’ll finally organize her room or start on the novel she’s outlined. 

The possibilities are endless and all too soon, Madge is pulling up to a familiar curb, in front of a familiar house spilling light onto the grass out front. As her best friend puts the car in park, she finds she almost asks if she can stay over. 

The question is on her tongue - she knows Madeline would say yes if she did ask - but Katniss closes her mouth and instead leans across the console, draws her into an embrace. The blonde is filled out a little more than her, face curved softly instead of in angular strokes like her own, and Madge’s arms are warm around her. 

She almost doesn’t break the hug but remembers her parents, probably waiting in the living room for her to walk in and she doesn’t have the courage to reach for her phone and watch the lights click off. 

She finds she also doesn’t have the courage to walk in and be confronted with their questions.

Her three shopping bags are heavy in her hand as she climbs the stairs, waves goodbye to Madge as her key slides into the lock with a satisfying _click._ Her movements are cautious, deliberate, almost mechanical. 

Bag on the hook, keys in the bowl, shoes under the bench. 

Stinted steps find her in the living room, where Clint’s stretched out on the couch, throwing a ball up and down while in the other room, she hears the keys on her mom’s laptop tap continuously. 

She takes one step, two, towards the stairs, hoping her parents didn’t hear but her father’s voice makes her pause. “I’m not going to force you to tell me what happened but I’m going out on the boat tomorrow and thought you might enjoy some time on the water.”

Katniss inhales, fighting back sudden tears. She can’t turn around, can’t look her father in the eye or she’d lose it right here and right now; spilling everything and there’s only so many things her heart can take. 

Is it selfish of her to lie, again and again?

“Thanks Dad,” she says, patting herself on the back mentally because her voice wavers only once. Underneath her feet, the stairs creak reassuringly and behind her, the same _swish swish_ continues as Clint throws the ball up and catches it again. 

Repeat. 

She pads down the hallway and stops at Prim’s door, cracked and she pushes it open, widening the strip of light on the floor until it washes over the sleeping figure of her little sister. Primrose is dead asleep, her hair still in her signature twin braids and she brushes a kiss to her forehead before retreating back into the hall. 

Closing the door as quietly as she can as to not disturb Prim, she turns only to find her mother standing behind her and her heart leaps into her chest. 

“Mom!” she hisses, chest heaving, “warn a girl next time!” 

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and before Katniss can say anything, she’s pulled into her mother’s arms. 

Knowing she isn’t a huge hugger, she hugs back tightly, burying her face in the oversized sweater. Breathing in the comforting scent of jasmine and book pages, the subtle smell of ink and the wispy scent of _clean,_ she wishes she could stay here forever. 

In the back of the mind she registers that her purse is smashed between their bodies and her mom’s reading glasses are falling onto her forehead but she finds she doesn’t care. 

“Goodnight Katniss,” her mother whispers and she presses a kiss to her forehead, “I love you.” She doesn’t remember if she leans into the contact but then her mother’s gone, back down the stairs and the sink’s running in the kitchen, her father clearing his throat and her mother’s twinkling laugh. 

The house dips into the silence and her bedroom clicks shut behind her. For a second, she leans against the doorframe and curses herself. 

It’s just a boy, a boy she’s just met, so why is she all torn up about him? 

But then she remembers Steve’s clear laugh, the clear affection in his eyes at the diner, the way he rested a hand on her lower back when the crowds in the street got wild. Just the thought of him sends her heart racing and she collapses on the bed, spent. 

Even after the breakup with Gale, she hadn’t been so torn up and they’d dated for two years. At their old hometown, she remembers dating someone else, another blonde with blue eyes like Steve but can’t remember his name for her life because it was back in high school. 

Peter, maybe? 

She curls up on the blankets, clothes and all and in her purse next to her, her phone buzzes. 

She doesn’t know why but something urges her to reach forward across the dark comforter in the dark room, read the message, respond. Moonlight streams in thin stripes along her blanket as hesitant fingers brush the zipper, pull it open so slowly she swears she’s dreaming. 

Something in her screams to stop, not to hurt herself again, but it’s overtaken by the thought this may be a misunderstanding, maybe Sharon was their friend and not a conquest or past lover. 

Katniss is reaching for the home button when the screen lights up again and she squints against the sudden blue light in the dark room.

**_Ocean Man_ **

_The messages are saying they’re delivering so if by some miracle you see this, I’m so sorry Katniss. If you’re up for it, can you call me? There’s a lot that needs to be said and apologized for and my text messages ha_

**_Ocean Man_ **

_ve a word count. Goodnight._

Her finger swipes right, she punches in the code and her finger hovers over the call button. 

She lays it face down on her nightstand and turns over, hugging a pillow close to her chest as she tries not to think of Steve’s hands on her face, his chapped lips from the salty brine against her own, his breath on her neck.

 

 

 

 

A knock wakes her and she groans, turning over and burying her head in the pillow from the harsh light filtering through her blinds. She’s just drifting back to sleep when the knock comes again, longer and harder this time and she hisses, slapping her hand on the bedspread. 

“What,” she growls and the second it leaves her mouth, she regrets it. What if it’s Prim? She’s never used that tone with her little sister before and she can’t take the wounded look in her eyes if the door opens and it’s her. 

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” her dad chuckles outside the door. “I leave for the pier in ten minutes so now is the time to get up, or forever hold your peace.” 

She sits up, blankets rustling beneath her and shuffles to the door. “I’ll be down in two,” she calls through the wood and there’s the retreating sound of Clint’s fishing boots. If she listens close enough, she swears she can hear an egg being cracked and the hiss of bubbling butter in a pan and it stirs her to get going. 

Brushing her hair is impossible so she throws it up in the messiest bun probably ever, trades her rumpled shorts for new army ones and a loose tank top with a light beige jacket around her waist. From the feel of her room it’ll be hot today, unlike the day before and she hesitates at the doorknob, stares down at the shopping bags on the floor. 

From downstairs Prim laughs, loud in the mostly quiet house and she shakes her head, closes the door behind her. For the hundredth time, she’s glad her footfalls are light because it gives her time to watch the scene in the kitchen. 

Primrose is perched on a stool at the counter, laughing as Clint attempts to flip pancakes without using the spatula and Natasha rolls her eyes, scrambling the eggs. She reaches into a big by her side and sprinkles pre-chopped peppers and mushrooms into the mix before happening to look up and see her eldest. 

Katniss throws her a smile overtop of Prim’s chipper _morning Kat!_ and opens the fridge. The kitchen is larger than they’re used to, more counter space than she knows what to do with and she pull down a glass from a high cabinet, pours a glass of orange juice and plants herself on the edge. 

“Morning little duck,” she mumbles over her glass and a dark red mug appears in her vision. Shooting her father a grateful look and takes a sip and finds it’s perfect; the coffee is ice cold, cubes clinking around and the creamer is just how she likes it. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” she says at Clint flips another pancake, all show because it’s already done and she tries not to laugh when Natasha snatches it out of the air and casually takes a bite. 

Clint pouts, hand lax on the handle of the pan, still in the air. “Naaaaaaat,” he whines, but is quickly shut up when his wife leans forward and kisses him. 

Prim gags, makes a disgusted face and Katniss takes the opportunity to reach across the counter and swipe one of her pancakes. Their light and airy, her father’s specialty and Prim’s are dotted with blueberries her favorite. 

Her little sister gasps, affronted. “Dad!” she wines, “Katniss stole one of my pancakes!” 

Natasha leans back, gets back to work on the eggs and her dad nods, dazed. “Yeah, yeah okay, Prim.”

Snickering at her father, she hops off the counter and kisses her mother good morning. Natasha makes no mention of the night before and she’s grateful. “How long until the eggs are done mom?”

The older woman turns the burner down, folds the eggs in half again. “Two minutes, maybe.” 

“I gotta make a call,” she says, already walking out of the room, “don’t let Prim eat my pancakes!” 

The responding laugh isn’t reassuring and before she even knows what she’s doing, Steve’s number is ringing on her phone. She won’t admit to it but her heart is racing and leaps with every beat of silence before it rings again. 

It goes to voicemail and she hangs up before she hears his recorded voice. 

She rips the phone away from her ear, suddenly angry. Why’d she do that; what was she trying to accomplish? As if there’d be some easy solution and Steve would apologize and she’d forgive him, get to kiss him again. 

Now he’ll see that she got his message last night because she’ll be in his missed calls. 

 _Great going, genius_ , she chastises herself as she makes her way back into the kitchen. 

Clint munches on a piece of bacon that seemingly materialized from nowhere and Prim leans forward on her forearms. “Well?” 

She avoids Natasha’s knowing look, slides onto the stool next to her little sister and digs into the warm omelet. “Madge is busy today.” 

It’s obviously not what Prim expected and she surveys her for a second before humming and stuffing another bite of syrup-soaked pancake into her mouth. Her shirt is puffing out in the back, coming loose from the tuck into her high-waisted shorts and Katniss pokes her playfully. 

“Tuck in your tail, little duck.” 

Prim giggles, quacking and Clint bends to kiss Natasha, heading for the door with two pancakes between his teeth. He threads his arms through his windbreaker, fits his favorite weathered baseball cap on before removing the pastry from his teeth. 

“I’m gonna start the truck,” he calls back into the house and Katniss takes another bite. 

“Be out in a minute!” 

The door slams behind him and a few seconds later she hears the old beater fire up. Natasha shakes her head at her husband and hands Katniss a napkin as she hops to put her shoes on. 

“Bye!” She calls to Prim and her mother before hurrying outside. The sun is warm against her face and contrary to what she expected, there’s a cool breeze that flutters her jacket. 

The truck, gray paint chipping and bed loaded with fishing boxes and tackle rumbles quietly as the town comes alive around them. Despite living on a back road, farther away from the Main Street than most but still near the sea, she can both heart horns honking, people talking, and the crashing of the ocean. 

Excitement overtakes her fading irritation. She’s going to go out on the water with Clint, forget all about boys and in two months, they’ll be on the road again. Living basically on wheels and off of nothing isn’t as lonely as some people perceive and every road stop, she likes to think, brings her closer with her family. 

Sometimes, though, she’ll see families with balls strewn in the yard, clothes on the line and van in the driveway and craves something she doesn’t have. 

Her dad is a private investigator, her mom a lawyer and both work for a small company out of New York City; called something stupid like SHIELD and that has them moving around a lot. The truck in their driveway is a rental, just like their house and their life here and her heart aches as she swings the door open, climbs in the front seat. 

Clint is fiddling with the radio, cap already askew despite only being outside for a minute before her and she winces at the feel of leather against the bare underside of her thighs. The fabric is tacky from condensation and she rolls down the window by the crank, smiles at the purring of the engine. 

The longest they ever stayed anywhere was in Iowa, with Clint’s sister and her kids. Katniss had loved staying with family and Prim had loved it even more, meeting her cousins she’d never even _heard_ of. They had stayed for a year because of a case that dragged on in court for a lack of evidence that eventually ended in letting the suspect, a kid accused of killing his dad, go. 

In her back pocket, her phone begins to blare _Moskau_ by Dshinghis Kahn and she smiles widely, swiping to accept without hesitation. The pixelated picture of a redhead pops on screen and Katniss waves, biting her lib to keep her face from tearing because her smile’s so wide. 

“Wanda! Long time no see!” 

On the screen, the pixels clear for a moment to reveal a girl, about her own age, with black studs in her ear and muted red hair. Her fingers are adorned with rungs and her shirt plunges off-screen. “Hey Kat!” 

“What’s up?” 

Wanda shrugs, the camera shaking for a moment before leveling out. “Oh, you know - moving around a lot.” 

She nods in understanding. “How’s the new family?” 

Shrugging again, Wanda looks at something off-screen. “Alright, I guess. Pietro really likes it here though so maybe we’ll stick around longer if he doesn’t manage to fuck this up.” 

From the driver’s seat Clint clucks his tongue. “Language.” 

Wanda laughs, throwing her hands up. “I learned all I know from you and now you do me dirty by chastising your best pupil. I’m hurt, honestly,” she says, playfully holding her hand to her chest and Clint rolls his eyes.” 

“Stay out of trouble, Wand, and tell your scoundrel of a brother that I said hi.” 

“Can do!” she smiles and turns her attention back to Katniss. “So, Kat. I want to hear all about this Steve.” 

The truck stutters and when Katniss looks over, Clint is looking at her, pretending not to have heard. She shrugs, “There’s nothing much to tell,” she says honestly, pausing a second to furrow her eyebrows. “How’d you find out anyways?” 

Wanda smiles, pops her gum while twirling a piece of her hair from her ponytail. “A magician never reveals her tricks.” 

“Madge told you.” 

“I would tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” 

“Oh, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me winning every arm-wrestling contest you’re ever challenged me to.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I move to show contrary evidence against the defendant’s statement.” 

“Oh god, did Natasha get to you?” 

Katniss actually chuckles at that, throwing her head back and laughing into the sunny morning streaming in through the open windows. “Well, when your mother lives her work you start to pick up things.” 

“Amen,” her father says, eyes still on the road and unreadable because of his sunglasses but he’s smiling the entire time as he turns on his blinker and pulls off in the parking lot leading to the pier. The keys jangle in his hands and the engine doesn’t purr as he climbs out, nods to Wanda. 

“See you around.” 

Off-screen, someone shouts something and Wanda rolls her eyes, smiling. “I know you’ve got to go but at least this time I do too. Are you free later?” 

In maybe the most genuine smile since two days ago, Katniss nods. “I’ll always have time for you.” 

“Sap.” 

“Bitch.” 

She laughs. “Bye Wanda.” 

“Bye Kat! See you later!” 

Wanda disconnects from her end and Katniss takes a second to look at the rippling waves. Her phone limp in her hand, she watches seagulls swoop and soar after plastic bags left in the sand and sighs, shoulders slumping. 

From the pier Clint yells and she shoulders her bag. 

She leaves her phone in the middle console and books it across the sand, Birkenstocks slipping slightly in the sand. Her father is already in the rental boat and she takes a second to thank the universe Steve doesn’t seem to be working today. 

Rope rough against her fingers she unties the knot, brings up the anchor, casts off. It takes a second but then the engine sputters to life and they’re off; salty ocean wind whipping her hair. As they make their way to Clint’s favorite spot she leans over the edge, watches the schools of fish swim below. 

All too soon though they’re slowing and her dad appears, holding two fishing poles and she takes one, dangles her feet off the edge of the sloped platform in the back. Father and daughter sit in silence for a few minutes. 

“I don’t want to talk about him.” 

Clint snorts, bobs his line. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah but I could hear you thinking from here and there’s nothing wrong. He’s just a boy and they’re stupid and I don’t know why I’m so torn up about him.” 

Katniss blinks once, twice, turning back to her line with a burning face that isn’t from the sun. _Where did that come from,_ she chastises herself and the only sound for the next minute is rippling of the waves. 

Her father breaks the silence. “Did you ever hear me and your mother met?” 

“Probably but I know even if I had you’d tell me again anyway.” 

Nudging her playfully before turning back to his line, Clint sighs. “She was one of the top PI’s in New York City, working for some big officer and I was just a PI hired for the same case but off the books. Back then, I didn’t really care for legitimacy as much and would take jobs just for the money.” 

“We crossed paths a few times, never knowing the other’s intentions until I asked the client out on a date and they turned me down, saying they were going out with someone else that night. I spent that entire fall evening in a car across the street and watched this gorgeous, redhead of a woman charm her way into someone’s heart she didn’t want.” 

“You were both hired for the same case but never ran into each other?” Katniss snickers and Clint sends her a playful glare. “Only your luck, dad.” 

“Yeah, it’s not like New York City is huge or anything,” her dad says, teasing before sobering up. “Anyways, the second the person pulled away from the curb, I went up and asked her out. She refused and walked away but I followed her, persisted until she brought me up to her apartment and we spent the night watching Gilmore Girls and eating out of Chinese takeout boxes. She had taken down her hair and changed into sweatpants but I was still so enthralled.” 

His eyes go starry. “She was so serious - so dedicated to her job yet so lively and I could do nothing but sit back and watch her open with every hour. I knew any girl who had Shakespeare and E. L. James side-by-side on her bookcase was a keeper and when I woke on the couch the next day with her head on my shoulder, I knew she was the one.” 

She props her pole between her knees, leans back on her hands. “I bet mom’s side of the story isn’t nearly as sappy or romantic.” 

Her father laughs at that, throwing his head back and she knows that despite having Natasha’s features, her mannerisms are mostly Clint’s. The same tick in their finger when they’re nervous, the vein in their neck when they’re angry, the same loud laugh.   

“I bet the reason no fish are biting yours is because you’re a meanie,” Clint says, reeling his first fish and unhooking it from the tackle, throwing it in the cooler. If they catch enough tonight, they both secretly hope Natasha will let them have either kabobs or tacos and her mouth waters at the thought. 

“I bet I can hook more fish than you,” she says and that competitive streak they both share flares up in his eye. 

“You’re on,” he promises and she shakes his hand. 

“Winner has to de-bone.” 

Shuddering, Katniss pulls her hand back. She hates taking off the scales, removing the bones from the meat but she’s never the one to back down from a bet and Clint knows that, all too well. 

Like father, like daughter.

 

 

 

 

Natasha has a good laugh when she returns home from a light shopping trip with Prim to find her husband and eldest daughter on the front porch, glaring at each other, fingers slippery with bone marrow and glittering scales. 

“Next time we’re going to account for a tie.” 

“Agreed.”

 

 

 

  

She wakes with a start. 

Outside her window is dark, the world silent and cold and in velvet of the night, her alarm clock blinks _1:23 AM._ She groans, burying her face back in the pillow and wondering why her body hates her so much. 

_Ping._

She thinks she’s just imagining it at first, holds her breath, but it comes again. She untangles her legs from the thin blankets, and pads to the window, trying to make sure it’s real and not just a hallucination from sleep deprivation. 

_Ping._

_Ping._

Knowing how light of a sleeper her mother is and the fact their room is right down the hall from hers, she hurries to the window, peeks through the curtains and almost chokes. For there, down in the yard, in a rumpled black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, is Steve Rogers. 

She freezes as he winds up, throws another pebble. It bounces off the window and the house falls into the silence for a minute until she can’t take it anymore, yanks up the sash. 

“What the hell are you doing here,” she hisses into the night air and below, Steve sputters. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually come to the window.” 

“Well, I'm here, aren't I? You didn’t answer my question.” 

He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you please come down and listen to me for just a minute? I know you’ve been avoiding my messages and I get that. I just - there’s just something you need to know.” 

Irritation bubbles up, quick with sleepiness but then something whispers that she should hear him out, what harm could it do? 

“Fine,” she seethes, ignoring the excited look on his face. “You have five minutes.” 

She yanks the sash back down, closes the curtains and pads back to the door. When she cracks the door open, there’s not a sound from the other two bedrooms and she slips out. Underneath her socks the stairs mercifully don’t creak and it’s when she has her hand on the doorknob to the front door that the reality of what she’s doing sets in. 

She’s in tiny shorts and a tank top, only covered by a bathrobe and her hair is probably a mess. There’s a mirror above the side table and she checks quickly, aided by the moonlight, that her hair doesn’t look like it’s actively trying to make a break for it. 

Katniss swings the door open and there he is. 

In the dim light of the porch, he glows. There’s a grease stain on his right arm, hair falling over his forehead and stubble shadowing his chin. She steels her shoulders, steps out into the summer night air and cracks the door behind her. 

Crossed arms are her only armor. “You have five minutes.” 

Steve runs his hand through his mussed hair again and this close, he’s almost too good to be true. “I’m sorry,” he says, simply, face falling. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“Funny, didn’t feel that way.” 

He sighs, almost in an irritated way and her own anger bubbles in her throat, poisons her throat and threatens to lash from her tongue at the slightest catalyst. 

“You’re upset because Bucky called you Sharon, right? Please, let me explain.” 

“I’m waiting,” she spits. “Four minutes.” 

“Sharon is our neighbor and two days before I saw you on the beach and we went out for shakes, she asked me out. I turned her down but Bucky was there and when he heard I was bringing home a girl that night, he assumed.” 

Steve steps closer and she flinches back before she knows what she’s doing. Immediately, his face falls and his arms collapse by his side, hang limp. “Then you were gone and I didn’t know how to find you except your phone number and I looked around town but no one knew anything about you and you weren’t responding! I was so worried,” he says, biting his lip and looking at the ground. 

“I knew you didn’t have a car because it was in the garage and I spent all day driving around town and trying to see if anyone had seen you. Darius said you came into the coffee shop with Madge not long after you left my house and then I had to track _her_ down.”

“Three.” 

Steve exhales forcefully. “Will you just _listen?_ I said I was sorry and I spent days trying to contact you but you ignored me and every attempt I made to apologize - “ 

The anger explodes and she stepping close, finger jabbing into his chest with every word. “Listen here, _Steven,”_ she seethes, rage finally boiling over, “You, listen to _me._ All I knew is that I came home with you, trusted you, and was assumed to be another girl.” 

“You know what that implies,” she laughs bitterly, almost manically, “it implies that your roommate thought I was _Sharon_ because she had been there before and he was comfortable with the idea of her sleeping with you.” 

He opens his mouth but she steamrolls on. “And then imagine having to walk and come home in yesterday’s clothing, rumpled, and have your family _assume_ things!” 

“That’s not my fault!” he protests and she rolls her eyes. 

“Oh yeah, because _nothing_ is ever your fault! Go ahead and blame it on your neighbor and your roommate and the man from the grocery store - see if I care!” 

She whirls around, intent on slamming the door as quietly as she can not to wake the whole neighborhood but then his hand is on her wrist and his mouth on hers. His lips are chapped and the kiss is forceful, angry, and she pushes back with all her might, daring him. 

Her arguments swallowed, they stay like until he breaks for air, her cheeks in his hands. She watches with rapt fascination as he licks his lips and hates herself for the blush that rises in her cheeks. 

Already her irritation and anger is gone, replaced with butterflies and all she wants is to pin him against the inside of the door, kiss his lips until he’s panting for air and then bite her way down his chest. 

Her chest heaves in the thin space between them and he rests his forehead on hers. He lifts his eyes, studying her own and she doesn’t look away, finds she can’t. 

“Tell me you hate me and I’ll leave,” he whispers into the air before her lips and she’s drunk off his smell, his taste, is intoxicated with the slope of his cupid’s bow.” 

“I hate you,” she says, leaning forward, watching his eyes droop with the statement, “but not as much as I love you.” 

This kiss is softer, more intimate and she presses her body firm against his, disregarding the fact she’s in thin pajama shorts and he in jeans when she grinds forward and he moans into her mouth. She won’t admit to it but when he pushes her against the house and her back softly hits the tiles, she actually _whimpers._

After a few minutes the porch light clicks off, not enough movement for it to stay on and in the darkness she seeks out his mouth, his neck, his arms. Steve kisses her mouth, her jawline, licks his way down her neck and buries his face in her shoulder, sucking. She gasps quietly, hips moving of her own accord and her legs wrap around his waist, body mutinous. 

 _But,_ she wonders, _is her body really mutinous if she wants this?_

All too soon though, just when she thinks his fingers will be bold enough to do more than trace the slope of her chest through the thin material of her shirt, they disappear altogether. When he lowers her to the ground she shivers, feet bare against the cold of the porch and the light clicks on as he leans forward, kisses her once more. 

His hair is sufficiently mussed, tiny bruises starting to form in fingerprint-shades of blue and black from her gripping his biceps and in the dim light, she wants to press soft kisses to each one of them. 

“Goodnight, Katniss,” he whispers into her mouth and she unwraps her arms from around his neck, smiling as his eyes catch on the forming hickeys she can feel throbbing at the base of her neck. 

She stands on her tiptoes, words tracing the inner part of his ear and he shivers. “Goodnight, Steve,” she breathes and then she’s stepping back, closing the door behind her and he’s alone. 

For a minute, he just stands there, processing everything that just happened before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars. 

“I’m so screwed,” he groans and from upstairs, swears he can hear her giggling. 

He turns, looks up at the second-story window. It’s completely still, no light or movement from inside and the curtains are still. Despite that, there’s a huge smile on his face as he mounts his motorcycle and kicks off. 

He forgets to turn on the lights until two blocks later and later, when he climbs into bed, he remembers the curve of her mouth against his, the coconut and pear chapstick, the cucumber in her hair when he buried his fingertips in it.

  

 

 

 

The next morning, Natasha smirks over the rim off her coffee mug and doesn’t say a word. Overnight, the hickies turned a dark purple and Katniss knows her shitty concealer isn’t doing its job very well if her mother is giving her _The Look._

She returns home in the afternoon from Madge’s house to find her mother at the table, on the phone with the rentor. 

“Hello, yes - Mrs. Hill? Yes, this is Natasha Romanoff-Barton and me and my family are currently renting your Beachside Cottage. Mhm, yes, I was just wondering how much it would cost to take this place off your hands.” 

Katniss stands in the doorway, shell-shocked, and Natasha just winks at her. 

“Oh, really? That little? In that case, I’ll be at your office on Monday. Oh, I think we’re going to be sticking around for a while longer,” her mother says and Katniss smiles, climbs the stairs. 

She clicks open her phone. 

**_Beach Babe to Ocean Man_ **

_Looks like you’re going to have to deal with me for a long time to come_

**_Ocean Man_ **

_Really now?_

**_Reply to Ocean Man_ **

_Yep_

The three dots jump in the corner and downstairs, she hears the door shut as Prim comes through, presumably finished with her breakfast with her friends downtown. 

**_Ocean Man_ **

_I look forward to it._

Her windows are open, white curtains fluttering in the wind and across the street she sees beach balls and tricycles strewn about a yard, minivan in the driveway. She smiles wide, falling back against _her_ bed knowing their own Volvo will become a permanent feature of their own driveway and maybe something will grow in the garden out front. 

Because, for the first time ever, they’re sticking around long enough to see if anything _does._


End file.
